


Wolf Pack Potluck

by amusewithaview



Series: Kinkmeme Fills [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Absent Parents, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Blow Jobs, De-Aged, Dominance, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gen, Het and Slash, Kid Fic, Locker Room, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mind Games, Mpreg, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Explicit Sex, Parent Death, Parenthood, Parents & Children, Pining, Rape/Non-con References, Siblings, Single Parents, Slash, Teen Pregnancy, Underage Character, Woman on Top, magical accident, medicinal drug-use, oh god just do it already, oh god what happened to Stiles?, weird wolfy genetics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:27:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview/pseuds/amusewithaview
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various kinkmeme fills that I am de-anoning and, for one reason or another, don't require their own separate posting.</p><p>1.  "Follow the Leader" - Scott/Allison, 'shippy.<br/>2.  "The Beginning" - Peter/Stiles: implied noncon (off-screen).<br/>3.  "Exasperation" - Jackson+Scott, discussions of rampant UST.<br/>4.  "That One Time When It Wasn't Stiles' Fault" - Stiles, Derek, Lydia: kid!fic, de-aged!fic.<br/>5.  "Taking It Like a Man" - Danny/Jackson, smut, one-sided feelings.<br/>6.  "Someday Soon" - Derek/Jackson, m!preg, unresolved feelings.<br/>7.  "Feverdream" - Derek/Lydia, smut, implied dubcon.<br/>8.  "Raised By (My Sister) Wolves" - Derek+Laura, pre-show, sibling fluff.<br/>9.  "If I Ever" - Stiles+Scott, pre-show, one mom plus one dad equals a happy family, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Follow the Leader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this prompt: Scott is a beta wolf, but he needs to be Allison's beta. When Allison finds out that W!Scott needs to be topped HARD, she is 100% on it.
> 
> Found here: http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/2069.html?thread=335125#t335125

Allison rakes her nails down his chest,  _hard_. She loves watching the lines start out red and then get paler until they disappear. She loves that by the time she reaches his pelvic line, the marks by his nipples have already vanished - it gives her an excuse to do it again, and again, and again.

Scott whimpers, but he doesn't struggle. He doesn't try to buck her off, or break the fragile bonds holding each of his limbs to one of the four posts of her bed. He can't help but shift a little: just enough so that his eyes turn gold and his teeth and nails get sharper, but she  _knows_  that he can't help it, so she won't punish him for it.

Sometimes he regrets that. Her punishments are almost as good as her rewards.

Allison smiles down at him, fingers gently rubbing along the line of his boxers, driving him slowly to distraction. "You're being so good, sweetie," she reassures him, bending to nuzzle her nose against his belly-button and then trailing it up his chest to his collarbone. She takes slow, measuring licks from the hollow of his throat up to the edge of his jaw, and Scott fights the urge to grind upwards, seeking friction.

He has to stay still, for now. He has to follow the rules Allison has made.

He's surprisingly okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First attempt at a smutty thing of any kind, woot!


	2. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Chris Argent, Coach Finstock, Derek, Jackson, Mr.Harris, Peter, Scott, Sheriff Stinilski, Stiles, The Vet.
> 
> Choose anyone you want to write. I just want some good old fashion non-con.
> 
> Extra cookies for crying, begging, bondage, marking and/or knotting (if a wolf is involved). And I'll have your babies if you write it Peter/Stiles but I'm not picky.
> 
> Found here: http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/2069.html?thread=338965#t338965

"Don't waste your strength," Peter soothed the boy, rubbing one hand across his shoulder and down his arm, feeling the muscles tensing and twitching under his light grip. "You won't break loose and struggling will only make this more painful." He moved around the bed until the teen's frantic eyes could meet his and smiled.

"Mmf! M-mm hrm  _mmffm!_ "

The gag had been a good choice, he decided, almost as good a decision as tying the boy face-down. He tilted his head to one side, considering, maybe he would allow him the illusion of choice? Let him decide which position Peter would take him in?  Not now, but after he'd slaked his stronger lusts. Right now, the face of the wolf would only disturb the boy more, and he had been telling the truth, he didn't want the teen to hurt himself. That was Peter's job, and only if absolutely necessary.

The bite would hurt, but that would come later. The sex was a means to an end: he'd made a mistake with the McCall boy, allowing him to go back to his family without cementing ties. He wouldn't make the same mistakes with this one... Stiles? Yes, Stiles. Stiles would be his as a human and as a wolf, and it would bind them together all the more tightly. It had been too long since he'd had a pack, a  _real_  pack.

He trailed a finger down the boy's spine, ignoring the soft rustle of the bonds being pulled tight, and knelt down on the bed between Stiles' spread legs. Leaning forward, he grabbed a handful of brown hair and tugged the boy's head to one side, whispering in his ear:

"We're in the middle of the woods, on the opposite side of town from the Hale residence. No-one would be able to hear you scream, even if you  _could_  scream. You're too weak to break these bonds on your own, and no-one is coming for you." He smiled, "No-one will even know you're missing until it's too late. The fire I set at the supermarket will keep the cops - and your father - busy until morning, and that's another six hours off." He settled himself closer, chest tight to Stiles' spine and rolled his hips up against the teen's ass: "And I don't need six hours for what I'm going to do to you."

Stiles went very, very still - listening to Peter's words.

"I don't want to hurt you, I won't unless you make me. This is going to happen, whether you like it or not. I can  _make_  you like it - " he forced a hand under Stiles' stomach to run his fingers gently over his flaccid cock, " - but that'll be easier for me, for  _you_ , if I don't have to deal with you fighting me first... it's up to you."

Peter felt a fine tremble start in the boy's arms and then... he went completely limp.

"Good boy," he murmured, loosing his hand from Stiles' hair to stroke down his throat, "that's a fine start."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is/was my first attempt at a non-con story. It creeped me out and I doubt I'll ever try another.


	3. Exasperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scott/Jackson role-playing as or mocking the obvious attraction between Derek and Stiles. Bonus points if one of them overhears them at it.
> 
> Found here: http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/2069.html?thread=421909#t421909

Scott blinked down at the text on his phone:  **Derek being asshole, skipping practice to defuse, will pick you up**  and sighed. While on the one hand he was glad that he hadn't seen the text until  _after_  practice, which allowed him to focus on his game...on the other hand he felt kinda bad for leaving his  _Alpha_  to his  _human_  friend to deal with.

"Why the face, McCall?"

He glanced up at Jackson who was looking at him curiously, oddly enough their enmity had pretty much been killed by Jackson's admittance into the pack. Call it brotherhood, call it teamwork, call it whatever you wanted (Stiles called it a combination of Jackson finally having an authority figure he actually respected plus finally knowing that people weren't gonna up and leave him if he messed up) it made his life easier, so he wouldn't question it.

"McCall?"

Scott blinked, "Oh, sorry man, just some Stiles and Derek bullshit."

Jackson made a face and turned back to his locker, "Yeah, those two really just need to fuck already."

"WHAT?"

"Oh, come on, you can't tell me you haven't thought it."

Well, he _could_ , but that would be a lie.  "I... it's just," Scott winced, "he's my best friend. And  _Derek_."

"I know, but still, the way they are around each other? I'm surprised we haven't walked in on - "

"Stop! Not a picture I want in my head,  _ever!_ "

Jackson smirked, "I think the tension's about to get to them, Derek's been extra slammy lately."

"Or Stiles has been extra... _Stiles_."

" _Random fact about wolves that no-one gives a shit about!_ " Jackson piped in an exaggerated falsetto.

Scott laughed, " _Growl-snarl!  Shut up! Wall-slam._ "

" _Don't be so sour, wolfy-baby..._ "

" _Don't call me that! Desk-slam._ "

"And then they'll start making out and we can stop smelling all the almost-sex," Jackson finished.

"Almost-sex? Who's having almost-sex, why aren't they having real-sex?" Stiles asked, walking into the room. Scott ducked his head into his locker, trying not to meet either of the other teen's eyes for fear of cracking up.

"You," Jackson said bluntly. "When are you and Derek gonna stop dancing around and get to it?"

" _Me?!_ " Stiles squeaked, and his voice was so close to the pitch Jackson had affected to imitate him that Scott really _did_ start laughing. "Me and  _Derek?!_  Are you  _high?!_ "

Jackson rolled his eyes, "Stiles, if you took Derek's and your behavior around each other and translated it to a guy-and-a-girl instead of a guy-and-a-guy, what would  _you_  think?"

Scott watched his best friend's face go through several interesting color-combinations before he turned and ran out of the room. He looked from the door to the other boy, to the door again, "How did you know what to say?"

"Gay best friend."

"...right."


	4. That One Time When It Wasn't Stiles' Fault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Stiles is de-aged through some hocus pocus or something. Derek has to take care of him because Stiles' dad is away and everyone else has to go to school. Cue shenanigans.
> 
> Found here: http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/2069.html?thread=591893#t591893

“Lydia, what did you  _do?_ ”

Lydia is pretty sure that she'd be dead right now, or at least on the way to being thoroughly maimed, if it weren't for the eight-year-old clinging tightly to her leg. As it stands, it's obvious that Derek is barely controlling himself: his hands are clenched into tight fists and she can see his eyes flickering with color even as he takes deep, even breaths, trying to hold himself together.

He shuts his eyes tightly, ending their terrified (and entirely one-sided) staring contest. “That's Stiles, isn't it.”

It's not a question.

She answers anyways:

“Yes.”

“Spell gone wrong?”

“Yeah-huh.”

His eyes slit open to glare at her, but they're still hazel – so she's counting this one as a win. “Do I want to know what you two shi- _knuckle_ heads were trying to do?” His eyes slant down to mini-Stiles, who still has his head buried in Lydia's pant-leg, and then back up to hers almost faster than she can blink. If she wasn't still terrified for her life, she might be able to muster some sort of amusement at the fact that Derek Hale, Derek  _Alpha Wolf_  Hale, has something against swearing in front of kids.

“Probably not. But it wasn't my fault! Okay, not  _totally_  my fault,” she amends under the onslaught of a patented Hale deathstare complete with eyes flickering red  _again_. “Stiles did the research and I found the supplies and it was really all just one big experiment trying to find out if anything besides werewolves is actually  _real_  and we were gonna wait till this weekend but then we had a fog delay and Stiles came over so we could try it and there was green smoke and chanting involved and when the smoke disappeared  _POOF_  he was all little and now I have to go to school and if you could just watch him until I get back that would be  _awesome_ , okay? Okay.”

Derek stares at her, wide-eyed.

She kneels down and gently unlatches mini-Stiles' arms from around her leg, turning him so that he's facing her and looking directly into her eyes: “You're gonna stay and hang out with Derek, okay? I will come back for you after I get out of school, that's in just three hours, and then we will figure everything out. Alright?”

“Lydia, no.  _No._  There is no way you are saddling me with -”

“Where's my mommy?”

“She's at home, Stiles,” Lydia lies through her teeth, smiling sweetly and staring daggers at Derek. “You can go see her later tonight, after I get back.” She stands again and faces Derek, “I know you didn't  _ask_ but I may as well tell you, the spell we did was to bring back memories of a happier, sweeter time. I thought it would work like a scrying spell but  _whoops_  apparently not. Now, I am going to  _go_  to the school and I am going to  _use_  the school computers and I will  _figure this out_  and then when I get back we will  _fix this_. I just need you to keep an eye on him and keep him entertained until then because people will  _notice_  if I am missing so you  _can't kill me_ , okay Derek?”

He stares at her for just long enough that she starts to sweat before giving her a small nod.

“Okay, bye Stiles. Have fun with Uncle Derek!” She is out the door, in her car and driving away before the newly-named 'Uncle' can object or mini-Stiles' can react.

Derek stares down at the tiny boy.

Stiles stares up at the tall man.

“ _Fudge_ ,” Derek swears vehemently.


	5. Taking It Like a Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The thing is, Jackson really likes sucking cock. It's majorly fucking with Danny's head.
> 
> Originally found here: http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/2069.html?thread=872213#t872213

Danny stares up at the ceiling and tries not to move. It's difficult,  _very_  difficult.

Especially when his best friend.

“Ohh _hhh..._ ”

His best  _straight_  friend.

“J-Jack _son!_ ”

His best straight friend has his lips  _wrapped around Danny's cock_.

“Jesus fucking – fucking  _christ!_ ”

There is an obscenely wet slurping noise and Danny cannot help but look up. He tries not to. He fights the urge with all his might because no matter the beauty of the sight before him, it's still gonna hurt a little. It's like eating acid-laced chocolate to see Jackson lying there with his chin resting on Danny's hipbone, smiling sweetly and licking his lips.

“You okay?” Jackson asks curiously, big blue eyes completely guileless, completely ignoring the erection standing tall not two inches from his face. He tilts his head down and brushes his lips softly back and forth, back and forth across the other teen's hipbone without breaking eye-contact and Danny slumps back down.

“Fine,” he grits out, caught somewhere between overwhelming lust, unrequited love, and the sort of pain that makes poets great. This  _thing_  they have going on? This thing where they're friends and it's good – no, it's  _great_  – but that's all they are until Jackson's tension ratchets high enough that he just needs to hold Danny down and  _swallow him whole_  is killing him. Jackson, for some reason Danny cannot fathom, finds sucking cock to be a great stress reliever. In his mind, it's a win-win: Jackson will feel better and Danny will have awesome orgasms (because Jackson is a fucking overachiever and must be the best at absolutely  _everything_ ).

He doesn't realize that it's killing Danny. Danny won't tell him, because if he did then it would end. He knows that hurting him is the  _last_  thing that Jackson would  _ever_  want. He also knows that this is the most he'll ever get, and it's better than nothing. Sort of. Maybe. That's probably the hormones talking. Well, the hormones and the fact that it feels like every ounce of blood has rushed to his dick.

He feels wet and warmth and  _suction_  sliding down the length of him and -

“Fffffuuuuu -” he whines, head thrashing against the bed, hands fisted in the sheets.  He's fighting the urge to move again. Because if he fucks Jackson's mouth the way he wants to, he'll end up flipping the boy over afterwards so he can reciprocate, and if he ever sees what Jackson looks like after an orgasm – he can picture it: pupils blown, pink mouth swollen, panting for a reprieve Danny's not inclined to give him – he'll end up fucking his best friend into the mattress.

And that'll be the end of their friendship, and Jackson's trust.

So he lays there, and he takes it, takes every sensation – Jackson's hot mouth, full lips and rough tongue on his dick, hard hands on his thighs – and he hoards it deep in his heart. It's not enough to fix the hurt, it's probably not even enough to balance it out, but he'll take it. That's all he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First slashy scene I've ever written! Woot!


	6. Someday Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jackson is expecting :)  
> that's pretty much the jist of it; everything else is free reign ^^  
> I've been hoping for some cute Jerek babies for quite some time now <3
> 
>  
> 
> Originally found here: http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/2069.html?thread=794133#t794133

Somehow, being pregnant has turned Jackson into the biggest bitch,  _ever_.

He is aware of this, he's not oblivious to how much of a shit he's being, but he really can't help it. Stiles' cologne is too strong and absolutely has to go, Allison and Scott's hormonal lovey-doveyness makes him want to claw their faces off, Danny is too freaking  _calm_  about  _everything_ , Lydia... Lydia is actually the easiest to be around, god knows why. Maybe it's something left over from their failed relationship, a lingering camaraderie, but when he's at his worst she just joins right in and they verbally eviscerate whoever draws their eye and it's  _awesome_.

And Derek? Derek's constantly  _there_  and it would be annoying but his reaction to this whole thing is perhaps the strangest of all. It seems like the snappier Jackson is, the _happier_  Derek is. He's – he's solicitous, he's  _doting_ , he's freaking  _tender_. It would really freak Jackson out – and it totally wigs everyone else besides Lydia – but it makes his wolfy side all squirmy and happy and when he tries to fight that he just ends up looking (and feeling) constipated and, really, there's enough going on with his body right now without adding some unnecessary shit.

“I want a cheeseburger,” Jackson announces, frowning at the television.

Instantly, everyone in the room freezes. Allison and Scott are sitting on the couch with him, holding hands (anything more snuggly than that and they know Jackson will cut a bitch – the bitch being Scott); Lydia is leaning against Jackson's legs, doing homework; Stiles is sprawled across the floor, taking up more room than should be physically possible; and Derek is sort of hovering, leaning against the doorframe and watching Jackson instead of the movie. It would be creepy – it sort of  _is_  – but after a month of this Jackson's gotten used to it.

“Um,” says Stiles, because even now – when nine times out of ten he's the only human in a room full of wolves (Allison can defend herself adequately enough that she's like half a wolf) – he has no sense of self-preservation, “what kind? I mean there's McDonald's -”

“I said I want a  _cheeseburger_  not processed  _cardboard_ ,” Jackson snarls.

“Stella's Diner closes at eight on Sundays,” Stiles points out. “It's 8:30.”

Derek stands and heads out of the room and Jackson's wolf whines unhappily at his departure.

Which is weird for Jackson, so he translates it into anger. He grits his teeth and fights the urge to growl, calming a little when Lydia thumps her head back against his knees to look up at him. “We could head up towards Hyde Park,” she suggests, “there's a couple of good burger places there,  _and_ ,” she smiles slyly, “if we snag Derek's porsche we could  _totally_  make it there and back in, like, a half hour.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Derek calls from – the kitchen?

Jackson frowns, now that he's paying attention, he can hear the distinctive sound of pots rattling and cupboards being opened. He gently extricates himself from the couch – and Lydia – and heads toward the kitchen to see what his Alpha is doing.

“You're gonna...cook?” he asks, surprised.

Derek slants him an amused look, one corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk that is as sexy as it is rare. Jackson may not be entirely cool with what's happened and  _how_  it happened, but he has to admit that the other parent of his puppies is one hot wolf.

“ _Can_  you cook?” he inquires dubiously.

“Very well, thanks. Besides, at least we'll know exactly what goes into whatever  _I_  make.”

Jackson heaves himself up so he can settle onto one of the counters, watching Derek move around the kitchen, searching out various ingredients. They're at Stiles' house because his dad is out and it's the only place that all of them can convince their folks is a 'safe' place. The town still hasn't entirely recovered from the events of the past six months and on top of that: Lydia's folks don't like Jackson anymore since he dumped their baby girl; Allison's folks don't like Scott, Derek,  _or_  Jackson; Scott's mom flat-out refuses to play host to that many teenagers; Derek's house is still a work in progress; and Jackson still hasn't really explained the whole 'became a werewolf and am now the future other parent of the Alpha wolf's cub-babies due to weird wolf genetics and instinct'.

He's been wearing a lot of baggy sweatshirts and thanking every god he can think of for the fact that his adoptive parents are mellow and non-intrusive... and that this whole mess started  _after_  lacrosse season.

From what Stiles has been able to figure out from gratuitous interneting and Derek's knowledge of born-wolves, they think he'll probably give birth sometime in the next month or so. Somehow the combination of wolf regeneration and wolf  _genes_  makes werewolf puppies go from conception to delivery lickety-split (Stiles' words, not Jackson's).

Which is cool and all, but this is still really weird.

He's a guy, and he's _pregnant_ , and that is... well, it's crazy.  It shouldn't be possible, and under normal circumstances it wouldn't be.  Apparently there's a whole thing with small packs and needing to replenish numbers and weird wolfy genetics and Jackson really wasn't listening to that part of the explanation because he stopped paying complete attention as soon as the word 'puppies' passed through Stiles' lips.  Basically what it amounts to is that Jackson, when wolfed out, gets more things rearranged than just his face and hands.  It's not something he really wants to think about.  He has accepted that he is carrying babies, puppies, little werewolves, _whatever_ , but he doesn't really wanna know the mechanics of it.  For now, he's just thankful that he still has his dick, even if there are some... _extras_ coming and going in that general area.

Sometimes Jackson wishes that the only crazy thing he had to deal with in his life was idiot Scott, juiced up on steroids. Sometimes he wishes that he never followed the other teen, never found out what was  _really_  going on in Beacon Hill's supernatural underbelly. Sometimes he wishes he hadn't asked Derek for the bite.

Sometimes...

“Hey, you okay?”

Jackson rouses from his thoughts to find Derek standing just before him, watching him intently.

“Yeah, fine,” he musters up a (strained) smile. “Burgers 'bout done?”

“Cooking,” says Derek, not taking his eyes off of the younger man for a second. He takes a small step forward, resting his hands on Jackson's knees and pushing them slightly apart so he can crowd even closer into the space he's making. His eyes flare that electric, pulsing blue and he leans into Jackson to inhale at the curve of his neck.

Jackson, feeling his inner wolf go all boneless and relaxed in submission, decides then and there that his wolf is a total  _slut_. This isn't exactly news to him, he found it out the hard way during the first full moon after he'd been bitten, but he doesn't know that he'll ever get over the disparity between who he is and who the wolf wants him to be. He's stopped fighting it for the most part, even recognizes in some deep ( _very_  deep, almost hidden) part of himself that, really, there  _is_  no difference between them. The wolf isn't a strange 'other', it's the part of himself that he suppresses and, honestly? That scares him, and he hasn't dealt with that yet, and Derek  _knows this_.

But still, he's always  _there_. Not pushing, not really, but  _waiting._  Waiting for Jackson to stop fighting it, waiting for Jackson to  _admit_ , if not submit, to the fact that this is what he wants. That he wants  _Derek_.

Jackson knows he'll be ready someday, probably someday soon – before the pups are born, even – but that day's not today, and so he reaches up and gently pushes against Derek's chest until he can see his eyes. They're blue and bright, but even as he watches they fade slowly to hazel and they're sad, just for a moment, and then –

And then Derek is stepping back, smiling gently and asking, “So, rare or  _really_  rare?”

Jackson smirks, and it's both a challenge and a promise, “What do you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't see doing instant fluff, and then somehow this turned into a character study of Jackson and how he thinks of himself. A lot of fanon has Jackson being an omega wolf, or just generally lower in the pack structure, and there are pros and cons for that. I see him struggling with the whole pack-hierarchy thing, because he would not be Alpha and in a good pack he wouldn't even be fighting for top spot. I think that for Jackson, letting go of that need to fight would be one of the hardest things for him to adjust to.


	7. Feverdreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Derek/Lydia! She is literally the only teen on the show he has not had creepy interaction with. Fix it, anons!
> 
> Originally found here: http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/2069.html?thread=371221#t371221

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU after Lydia gets attacked, Derek still kills the alpha.
> 
> Slight dub-con(?) and seriously loopy Lydia.

She wakes.

Everything is fuzzy. She hurts. She hurts  _everywhere_. She can't think. She can't  _think_  and that's  _terrifying_  but something is keeping her from getting too worked up. It's drugs, she knows it must be drugs, but it's a muted knowing like hearing music from another room. She can't breathe through her nose and her mouth tastes thick and sticky like too many mornings with not enough toothpaste. Her throat is raw... was she screaming?

She remembers waiting, waiting _waiting_ waiting, in the dark and then – and then...

 _BEEP BEEP BEEP_ , goes the monitor, faster and faster.

Nurses are running in and calling for doctors, one of them readies a syringe while another strokes her hair and stares into her eyes, speaking slowly and calmly. Lydia gasps and tries to tell her – tries to  _warn_  her – but then there's a pinch and a rush of cool in her veins and she is spinning like water down a drain into darkness.

She sleeps.

…..

 _It's dark and cool and she hears breathing and then there's a warm hand on her forehead and an answering warmth seems to spark in her side, in her_ injuries _, radiating outwards and then they meet somewhere in the middle and she gasps and the hand leaves and she is drifting again on a sea of drugs and exhaustion._

…..

There's light, but her vision is still – she can't quite – she babbles, she talks, she says anything and everything she can think of to whoever's there. She's not sure who's there, not really sure what she's saying but she's  _talking_  and someone is  _responding_  so she's not dead yet and they're not putting her to sleep again because she doesn't think she can handle the dark and the sleep and waiting, waiting _waiting_ waiting, to wake up – will she wake up again?

Lydia's not sure.

She's not sure of anything anymore because what happened to her, on the field?

It's not – she didn't – he was  _not human._

The beeping speeds up and she stares determinedly at the hideous floral pattern running along the top of the wall, counting daisies until it slows back into a steady  _beep..beep..beep._  Lydia ignores the nurse who comes in to check on her, all wavy lines and olive-colored scrubs, his motions make her dizzy and so she ignores him until he leaves.

And she's alone.

She sleeps, but this time it's by choice.

…..

 _She feels him before she sees him: warm fingers gently untangling her hair. Smoothing it to lie flat against her shoulders and then stroking down to her side, to the source of the dull ache that not even drugs can entirely mute. Her eyes fly open and she sees blue, shining down on her – such a cool, soothing color – like a searchlight, looking for something. She licks her lips and tries to speak, but then the blue is gone and so is the warmth and she wonders: what were you looking for?_

 _Did you find it?_

 _....._

It's dark again, or still, or something. The drugs have faded out of her system enough for coherency, which also means that the pain has flared back up. Lydia looks around, enjoying the fact that the thick, cottony feeling has almost left her for now. She knows that the nurses and doctors mean well, but how can she explain to them that nothing,  _nothing_  is worse than not being in control of her own body, her own faculties?

Especially now.

The moon shines through the window, round and almost full – she's been here almost a week, then.

Lydia stares at the moon, one hand pressed to her side, and feels – and  _feels..._

She shuts her eyes against the light, presses her hand against the bandage until sharp, fresh pain blots out the feel of light caressing her skin. She pants through the waves of pain, pressing harder until the hand she lifts away has a small smear of blood on it. Her heart-rate has gone up, the nurses will come with more drugs soon, but that's better than the alternative.

She doesn't know what the alternative is.

  
…..

 _She is half-asleep, or still asleep, or drugged, or_ something _. She feels hot and feverish and_ good _and her eyes fly open to the sight of light filling her room, sliding through the half-slitted blinds and flooding the room with glowing, radiant, luminous moonlight._

 _The room is bright, almost like day, but then the darkness hasn't been as dark for her, lately._

 _But there_ is _darkness in her room: a shadow sliding along the wall towards her._

 _It slinks up beside her bed and rests one hand, warm and large and not at all soothing, against her head before slipping it down to trace her lips. She shivers under the touch, under those glowing blue eyes, shivers and burns and feels the moon drawing designs on her skin. The wounds under her bandages throb in time with her heartbeat and Lydia feels weak and strong all at once._

 _The shadow-man moves, runs one hand down her body, taking the blanket with him until it puddles at her feet, leaving her legs bare to his perusal. She feels his eyes on her skin like sparks, dancing across her flesh – goosebumps in their wake._

 _Lydia moans, and the shadow-man growls._

 _Then he pounces, crouching on the bed over her, pushing her hospital gown up and Lydia can only stare at the shades of darkness he draws on her skin, the spot of ink that is his head between her thighs. Her eyes fall shut at the first brush of tongue against her nakedness, against the place she didn't even know was aching until he soothed it._

 _She feels him there: hot mouth drawing wetness from her, drawing moans and sighs and trembling muscles and pleasure so intense she can do nothing but shake and mewl. Tears trail from the sides of her eyes, lost in her hair like she is lost in him._

 _It builds. It builds and grows and rises and Lydia is pinned, held down by his lips and tongue and hands and shadows, trapped between his dark and the moon's light and just when she thinks she can't take anymore she feels something rough and sharp against her inner thigh, piercing skin and then she is bursting, exploding, flooding, dying,_ becoming _. Pleasure reaches out to pain and meets and mingles and fire rushes in her veins and she burns hotter and hotter, consumed and engulfed and..._ forged. __

 _Blue spots blink before her eyes and the shadow-man smiles, teeth as bright and shining as the moon._

…..

Lydia is released from the hospital two weeks after the attack. Her mother wheels her down in a small chair, but she walks to the car from the hospital door. She feels good,  _great_  even, but that's hard to explain to her parents after a week straight on some sort of medicinal aid. She tells them she feels fine and she hides the drugs in her hand or her mouth until she can flush them down the toilet.

She stays calm, she stays in control, she stays  _herself_.

She sees a dark shape at the edge of the parking lot, a man leaning against a black car, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Lydia smiles, waves, and steps into her father's car. She'll see him again. She'll see him  _tonight_ , because she can find him, she  _will_  find him. She knows who he is and what he is and what he has made her.

She's not waiting anymore.


	8. Raised By (My Sister) Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Preshow, Derek and Laura are living in a shitty one-room apartment but they have each other.
> 
> Sibling-domesticity.
> 
> Originally found here: http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/2069.html?thread=351509#t351509

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue-only fill, set pre-show. Derek is high-school aged here, but maybe also taking classes at the local community college (I did), and Laura is a few years older.

"We're out of milk."

"Again?"

"Again."

"Because I bought some just a few - "

"Last week."

"Oh. Well,  _you_  could go shopping."

"I have class."

"The CVS is open 24 hours,  _and_  they have milk. Just stop on your way back."

"..."

"... yes? Oh god, don't look at me like that. It's not  _my_  fault your people skills are shit. Man up, little bro."

" _Please?_ "

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Derek, I will go  _with_  you, but this is ridiculous. You can't be all Mr. Grouchy Hermit out in the woods, here. You go to classes, for chrissake! You interact with people  _there_ , why is this so much harder?"

"...the night clerk keeps hitting on me. And she  _smells_."

"Perfume?"

"No."

"Period?"

" _No._ "

"So she smells like se - "

" _YES_ , Laura! She smells! I - it's - "

"Okay, little bro - it's okay, just take a few deep breaths... better?"

"...yeah."

"Alright. This is something you gotta learn to deal with, Derek. You've grown up and filled out, girls are gonna - "

"I  _know_ , Laura. It's just... hard."

"Oh.  _OH!_  Like,  _hard_ -hard?"

"NO. Just,  _no_. Regular hard,  _jesus_."

"Soooo... she just smells, um, good and you don't wanna be around her because...?"

"It's - she's - it's not..."

"... she doesn't smell right, right? Like, it - ahem - smells good but not the _right kind_ of good?"

" _Exactly_."

"It means she's not your mate. It _also_ means that you  _have_  a mate. Way to go!"

"Don't you have a mate?"

"No. I figured it out a few years ago, back when - well,  _when_. It's not a bad thing, just means I can date and  _mate_  whoever I want. Not that I'm gonna be bringing guys back here - get that look off your face! You know what I mean."

"Yeah, well, teasing is a little bro's prerogative."

"Oh-ho-ho, breaking out the four-dollar words?"

"...I'm going to class."

"Learn things! Make good choices! I'll get the milk."

"Thanks, and Laura?"

"Yeah?"

" _Thanks._ "

"Love you too, Derek."


	9. If I Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this forever ago, TOTALLY forgot to post it here! Better late than never, right?
> 
> Original prompt: _After seeing this I now want an Au in which little Stiles and Scott make a romantic dinner for their parents, maybe failing and nearly burning the kitchen down but never giving up until their parents aventually get the hint and whilst their parents are cleaning up the mess in the kitchen they laugh about the idea of the two of them getting together and Scott and Stiles are intently listening in on them._
> 
> _Happy ending in which maybe sheriff stalinski actually responds back with a “would that really be horrible if we did.” Or something along those lines...._
> 
> Link here: http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/2069.html?thread=321301#t321301

“I don't have a mom,” Stiles says to his hands after Scott finally corners him.

“I don't have a dad,” he offers.

Stiles shoots him a twisted sort of smile and they don't talk about it (how he'd been quiet the whole day, especially when Mrs. Kretzky started them on Mommy Appreciation Cards; how he hadn't come back to the classroom after recess and set off what seemed like every teacher in the school looking for him; how Scott had been the one to find him, tearstained and uncharacteristically silent, sitting on the bleachers) – but they're best buds, they don't have to talk about everything.

They just _get_ each other.

A few weeks later they're hanging out at Stiles' house, because Scott's mom has to work a double and the Sheriff really doesn't mind, when he gets this look on his face. Scott has learned to fear this look. It is the look that says “we won't get caught” and “of course this will work” and, most frightening of all, “I am a genius” (Stiles really isn't).

“ _No_ ,” he says, trying to be firm.

“Scott, you don't even know what I'm gonna say!”

“I don't need to, the answer is no.”

Stiles frowns at him speculatively, and then holds up a movie. It's “The Parent Trap.”

Scott blinks at the double-image of Lindsay Lohan, then at Stiles, then at the movie again.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Time to take over the world?”

Stiles pauses, “No, not right now, maybe when we're older. _Anyways_. You don't have a dad and I don't have a mom, simple math says that dad plus mom equals family. 'The Parent Trap' says that it only takes sneakiness, ingenuity, and spaghetti to get two people to fall in love, or back in love, or whatever... we could totally make this work!”

“Make what work?” Scott demands, not because he doesn't get it, but because he needs a moment to process and making Stiles repeat his explanation with smaller words (what sort of ten year old uses the word 'ingenuity', seriously?) will give him a moment or two.

“...could be a family! I mean, unless you don't want to be my -”

“Alright, I'm in.”

“Sweet!”

...

Melissa notices that something is up with Scott almost immediately. She doesn't say or do anything, though. What could she say? “Hey, you've been way too considerate, lately” or “what's up with the flowers?” or, her favorite, “why are you and Stiles being _quiet?_ ” wouldn't get her a straight answer and, with that last, he might even take it as a complaint. While she's suspicious, she's not an idiot, and there's no way she's going to accidentally derail this new trend just because she wants to figure it out.

Things start to click – not full knowing, but inklings – at the Parent Teacher Conferences. Mrs. Kretzky frets and calls both her and Sheriff Stilinski into the room at the same time, showing them strange pictures with Scott's lack of artistic flair and lists (obviously written in code) with Stiles' handwriting. It isn't until she actually uses the words “Operation Parent Trap” that everything sinks in for Melissa, but when it does she's not sure whether to be amused or mortified.

She slants a look towards the Sheriff and notes that he has the same look on his face: half pain, half amusement.

“I'd blame Stiles,” she mutters to him out the side of her mouth, “but Scott is a born enabler.”

“They make a good team,” he says, smiling at her. And _whoa_ he has a nice smile...

They leave it at that, thinking (hoping?) that nothing concrete will come of the boys' plots, but three weeks later Melissa comes home to a spaghetti dinner, a silent house, and – fifteen minutes after she arrives – a wailing siren and fuming sheriff.

“He called in a domestic disturbance,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Well, they waited till I got home, so they're within sight of the house,” Melissa responds pragmatically. “We might as well enjoy the dinner, since they went to so much trouble to prepare it.” It looks good, too – which means that they've got another conspirator, probably her neighbor, Mrs. Anderson.

The sheriff – and she really needs to start using his first name, if _her_ son is going to put together ridiculous matchmaking plots with _his_ son – sighs and slumps into one of the kitchen chairs, rubbing at his temples tiredly.

“They really put a lot of thought into this,” he murmurs.

“They really want this to work.”

“Would it be so bad if it did?” he asks, not looking at her.

Melissa's eyes go wide, _Well, that was...huh_. “No, it wouldn't be _bad_ ,” she offers tentatively.

He looks up at her, and she's struck – again – by how attractive he is. “But?”

“But,” she continues, words slow, “I don't know if we'd be doing it for the right reasons. I like you, Dave, I do. I like your son, even when he's getting Scott into trouble and sneaking into my house. I wouldn't be against going on a date and seeing where this could go.” She moves to the table and covers his hands with hers, searching his eyes with her own, “But I don't know if you'd be doing this because you like me or because you think Stiles wants it.”

His face shutters, but she can tell he's listening.

“If you ever want to get back out there, hey, gimme a ring. But don't do something you're not ready for.”

He blows out a breath and nods. “Thanks, Melissa... you're a good friend.”

“Hey,” she smiles, even though she's a little disappointed, “McCalls are just awesome like that.”

“If I ever...”

“It's a date, Sheriff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly the only completely canon compliant bit I've ever written...
> 
> Original prompter was inspired by THIS post: http://teenwolfconfessions.tumblr.com/post/9217943391


End file.
